Who You are to Me
by WellDoneBeca
Summary: "I hate you and I love, and I wish you would go away but I wish you could stay with me because I'm a fool. And this whole time I was thinking that you'd tell me what we are meant to be when you came back…" (Prequel of What Could Have Been)


Sansa moved her fingertips over the braids in her hair, making sure everything was in place before doing the same to the knots of her dress. This was something new, one she had kept for special occasions. This was a special occasion.

Jon was coming back, and as much as she had hoped and longed for that day, he had brought a surprise with him. A queen for the Seven Kingdoms.

"It's snowing," Arya said behind her, standing a few steps away from the door.

"Take your cape with you," she answered, moving her eyes to her blurry reflection on the metal surface, and tentatively smiled. She used to do that as a child, training her best smiles to increase her beauty, but the last time she'd smiled was so long ago her muscles had forgotten how it worked. It was when she saw her brother and sister again when the Starks were finally together after almost 10 years apart. She didn't even know if they were alive, and they were here now.

"I'll see if the people need anything when I'm there," her sister informed. "Food, clothes, anything…"

Sansa nodded.

"Thank you," she gave up on the mirror and ran her hands over her dress one last time before turning to her. "Are you warm enough?"

Arya lowered her head with a hint of a smile on her face. She always asked those questions.

"I am. Yes."

Sansa only gave her a very small grin followed by a nod, watching as her sister left by the exit door and taking, instead, the solar entrance. She stopped by the box where the few letters Jon had sent her as time passed had been kept.

'- attentively, Jon' he signed them. She had kept all of them; there was no reason to do so, it was mostly all information. He was a prisoner, after all; they read all of his letters before he could send them. But they were a sign he was alive, a sign he was still there and trying to get back home. He was still trying to get back to her, right?

The mere thought stole her breath. Her lips were still burning from his kisses, almost as if he'd bruised her skin in the process. The way his hands grabbed her hips were so engraved in her memory that the exact place he so loved to hold tingled. Gods, she missed him. But he was back. That was a good thing, right?

The Lady of Winterfell left the solar with steady and firm steps. They were approaching. She should be ready.

Her eyes widened when a dragon flew over her head on the bridge, and a shiver ran her back while she looked for the second beast, finding the Dragon Queen's army marching instead.

They were almost in Winterfell.

"My lady," Pod and Brienne bowed their heads respectfully when she came to stand before them, the squire right behind her brother. Apparently, she was the last to arrive.

"They are here," Bran announced.

She glanced at him for a moment and faced forward. A minute later, they crossed the gate.

Sansa locked her jaw. They were standing side by side, not like allies but something more. A couple.

The look that Jon gave her when his horse stopped did nothing to stop herself from hardening hers, but the lady opened her arms anyway. She hated him; gods, she hated him. But she missed him so much she wanted to cry . But her eyes never left her.

"Where's Arya?" Jon asked.

"Lurking somewhere," she said coldly, and his eyes shifted on her face.

She could see the question in his eyes, but they didn't have time for that.

The woman approaching her was beautiful. Her hair was long and so light it was almost white and her clothes were so rich she felt like when she was a child in Cersei's presence the day King Robert had arrived in Winterfell once again. This time, however, she was the one looking down at her.

"Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen," he said, and Sansa crossed her hands in front of her body, almost creating a protection from the woman. "My sister, Sansa Stark. The Lady of Winterfell."

Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen. The daughter of the man who killed her uncle and grandfather, the woman who kept the only man she had even truly loved captive and could have stolen her from him so swiftly before she could even fight… And worse. The woman who wanted to take her home away from her family again.

"Thank you for inviting us to your home, Lady Stark," Queen Daenerys gave her a smile Sansa knew was just political. "The North is as beautiful as your brother claimed. And so are you."

Sansa knew better than to take her empty words and only glanced at Jon before nodding at the woman by his side. She's no Queen of mine.

"Winterfell is yours, Your Grace."

* * *

There was one tear in Sansa's face when she heard the knock on her door, and she was sure to clean it away before whoever it was came in.

Jon.

She had to fight to keep her words steady when he walked over to her side, still dressed the same as when he arrived. She wanted to kiss him, and she wanted to slap him and tell him to leave and never look at her again.

"Lord Glover wishes us good fortune, but he will remain in his castle with his men," she left the scroll that had arrived not an hour earlier by her side.

Jon left his gloves on the table with an annoyed face.

"They swore to stand behind House Stark."

She stood up. She couldn't look at him anymore. Not now.

"They swore to stand behind the King in the North, that's what he said," Sansa spat.

His steps were fast behind her as if he'd expected what she was about to do.

"I told you we needed allies," he insisted.

"Not that you'd give up the North."

Sansa leant onto the desk, breathing almost painfully.

"I never wanted the North, I never wanted to be king. I wanted to keep the North safe. I brought an army, two dragons…"

She couldn't take that anymore.

"And a Targaryen Queen."

Jon stopped.

"Is that what this is about?" he let out a breath. "We need her, Sansa."

But she shook her head.

"We could have gotten her help in a different way, we could have convinced her," she pointed out. "You didn't need to give her the North, but you did. You didn't need to lay with her, but you did."

Jon closed his eyes.

"How did you know?" he lowered his head and his tone.

"You weren't going to tell me, were you?" she asked.

Jon reached out to touch her hand, but she pulled away from him.

"Don't touch me," Sansa growled. He was too close. She couldn't even breathe.

She pushed past him, trying to recollect herself and left a silent Jon behind, not even moving when Ghost came to circle her foot. When he approached again, the direwolf growled protectively, and the room fell in deafening and piercing silence for what felt like an eternity before he spoke again.

"Sansa…" he muttered.

"Every time I'm with you, somehow I forget to breathe," she told him, not believing in the absurdity of her own words, struggling and spitting them at him. "It's like I'm a stupid rag doll or a… toy trying to stand on a single string with nothing to hold me if I fall down."

When she turned around to face him, there were tears on her cheek, and Jon couldn't even move.

"I don't even know what you are to me anymore," she accused. "I hate you, and I love, and I wish you would go away but I wish you could stay with me because I'm a fool. And this whole time I was thinking that you'd tell me that we are meant to be when you came back…"

Jon shook his head.

"Sansa, I don't know the answer to that."

"Yes you do," she interrupted him. "You decided that with her."

Jon stayed in silence. He didn't have anything to say about that.

"We need her help to beat the army of the dead," he insisted.

Sansa just covered her own face for a moment. Gods, why did she bring that up right now? What would she do now?

"Leave," she decided. "I don't want to see you today."

Jon didn't protest, walking to the door in silence, but stopped by the door.

"Sansa…" he turned around.

"Didn't you hear me?" she snapped. "Leave. Now."

She only moved when the door closed behind him, leaving her alone once again. Sansa knew nothing was settled and they'd need to talk later, but right now she couldn't bear more of Jon's presence.

It was a knock on the door that made her straight up again, and Sansa was ready to send whoever it was away when Podrick entered shyly.

"My lady, I came to ask if you needed any assistance," he stepped into the room, and Sansa relaxed a bit.

It had been a long day. She should go to bed.

"No, Podrick," she took the key of the solar in her hands. "I'll just leave to bed."

The squire confirmed and made a short curtsy before standing straight.

"Goodnight, my lady."

Sansa took a deep breath.

"Goodnight, Podrick."


End file.
